


the heartache swells and quickens near the end

by blueabsinthe, boltschick2612



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Come Shot, Dirty Talk, M/M, Masturbation, New York Rangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 10:27:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1854694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueabsinthe/pseuds/blueabsinthe, https://archiveofourown.org/users/boltschick2612/pseuds/boltschick2612
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hank has a challenge for Brad, and Brad never backs down from a challenge ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	the heartache swells and quickens near the end

**Author's Note:**

> Title is lyrics from the song "Fevered" by The Stills. 
> 
> Takes place before Brad's buyout.

Brad awoke to the bare skin of Hank's chest pressing against his back, his nose nuzzling the side of Brad's face.

"Hank," Brad murmurs sleepily,  "cut it out."

"Oh, Brad, don't even try and act like you don't like it," Hank teases, before he runs the tip of his tongue over the shell of Brad's ear.

Brad squirms against Hank. "Not the point."

Hank's laughter is slightly muffled as he brushes his lips over Brad's bare shoulder. One of his hands slips down Brad's side, running over his ribs, before he presses the flat of his palm against Brad's stomach. 

Brad places a hand over Hank's, and slides it off his stomach. "Hank … I'm trying to sleep," Brad says, trying his best to sound more agitated than he actually was, and way less turned on. It didn't really work, as was evident by the slight moan that escapes Brad's lips the second Hank's tongue found just the right spot behind his ear.

"I got a better idea."

"Oh, do you now?" Brad teases, and bites on his bottom lip as Hank shifts his position so his hips press against Brad.

Brad can barely hide the whimper that escapes his mouth as he pushes back into Hank.

"Mmhm," Hank whispers, before he nips at Brad's ear.

"Fuck, Hank," Brad says.

"I thought you were trying to sleep," Hank teases, nibbling on Brad's ear.

"And I thought you had a better idea."

Hank doesn't say anything right away, instead, he continues to lightly nibble at the shell of Brad's ear. He lets out a small, breathy, and sleep drenched laugh as small whimpers spill past Brad's lips. Brad pushes back against him, his movements bordering on desperate as he tries to gain every little bit of contact.

"Calm down, Bradley. I did say I had an idea. Still do." 

"You're going too slow," Brad whines, before he trails one of his hands up Hank's leg until his fingers made contact with the hem of Hank's boxers. He tugs on the hem, but Hank's hand stops him.

Hank grips Brad's hand, and smirks against his cheek as Brad whines in protest, his wrist twisting in Hank's grasp.

"That's not part of the plan, Bradley," Hank whispers, before he releases Brad's hand and slides his hand down Brad's bare torso. 

Brad turns his head to the side, trying to catch Hank's lips with his, only to have Hank pull away slightly.

For a brief second, Brad actually thought about hitting Hank out of frustration. "Fine, what is it you have in mind."

Through the dark, Brad could almost make out the sly smile gracing Hank's lips. Or at least he bet that's what Hank would be doing.

Brad tries to imagine the many possible ideas floating around in Hank's mind, most of them dirty, and all of them extremely in Brad's favour. Finally, Hank's smooth voice came from behind Brad and flows over him.

"I'll bet I can get you off without even touching you."

Brad's eyelashes flutter, and he turns his head to try and capture Hank's lips again.

Hank concedes this time, taking Brad's face in his hands and presses his mouth to Brad's. His thumb traces Brad's jawline, and he hears Brad sigh under his lips, his fingers coming up to thread in his hair as he shifts onto his back.

"Is that a challenge?" Brad asks when they break apart, teeth nipping at Hank's bottom lip.

Hank chuckles, sliding his palm down Brad's stomach. "Only if you decide to make it one."

Brad scowls, his fingers tugging on the fine, silky strands of Hank's hair restlessly. "You'd like it if I didn't," he says.

"Actually, I was thinking," Hank starts, leaning slightly into Brad's touch, "it's about time someone taught you a little restraint."

Brad let out a small laugh, and tugs a little harder at Hank's strands, ignoring as Hank feigns hurt, his features half pained, and half amused.

"Who is that really teaching restraint to, Henrik? Me, or you? Don't forget you promised not to touch me."

Hank reaches up, threading his fingers through Brad's, and slid Brad's fingers from his hair. He leans forward, and plants a feather light kiss on Brad's lips, before whispering with his lips brushing over Brad's. "Not with my hands, anyways."

Brad sighs, and squirms as Hank brushes his lips over his shoulder. He ran a hand along Hank's ribcage, before he presses his palm against Hank's navel, his fingers scraping gently over the thin skin.

Hank shifts his position, before he tugs Brad's hands away from his stomach, and interlaces their fingers.

Brad trembles as Hank's lips move over his shoulder. Hank nips at his ear, and Brad bucks his hips upwards, his whole body buzzing with the electricity that shot through his system with the movement. He let out a small, indignant cry of frustration. "This is stupid, Hank. I'd much rather just do dirty things with you instead."

Hank pulls back again, this time a lot further than before, and if it weren't for the sly smile gracing his lips, Brad would've thought he was genuinely upset.

"Bradley Glenn Richards. Did you just call me stupid?"

Brad's words come out in frustrated spurts, because damn it, Hank could be just as irritating as he was intoxicating. "I. You know. No. Quit fucking around, Hank."

"Oh, no, you don't need any lessons in restraint," Hank said through a breathy laugh.

Brad let out a small huff of frustration. "Well, get on with it then."

Hank smirks, brushing his lips over Brad's as he shifts Brad's palm down and beneath the waistband of his boxers.

"That's cheating, y'know," Brad points out, but he made no movement to remove his hand from his boxers.

Hank laughs, and trails a line of kisses down Brad's jaw. "How so? It's not my hands touching you."

Brad scowls. "Technicality."

Hank nuzzles his nose in the crook of Brad's neck. "Come on, Bradley. I want to watch you touch yourself."

Brad trembles as Hank's voice washes over him. He knew he could never deny Hank of anything, and as he moves his palm to cover his hardening cock beneath the thin cotton, he wasn't sure he ever wants to.

Hank nips at the spot where neck meets shoulder, and Brad gasps, his fingers moving over his length slowly. It didn't take long until Brad was hard, and Hank was moving his lips down his chest, murmuring in Swedish against his skin.

Brad can barely hear Hank's words over the roar in his ears.

"Do you think about me when you touch yourself?" Hank whispers.

Brad doesn't trust himself to speak, but he nods, his hand moving over his length slowly. He whimpers as Hank's mouth moves over his chest.

Brad strains to see against the darkness, his eyes only adjusted enough to see what was right in front of him, and the only light that met his vision was what filters in from the street below. He feels suspended in a state of heightened senses, every sound magnified, and every touch amplified in the absence of clear vision.

The breeze sweeping in through the window's, and past Hank's chiffon curtains, had just the right bite of cold to send goosebumps over Brad's skin. Or maybe it was the slight sting of Hank's teeth as they grazed over his collar bone that was causing Brad's skin to prickle with an almost palpable energy. His thoughts were spinning, and he was having a hard time telling the difference.

All Brad could think was for someone who swore they wouldn't use their hands, it sure felt like Hank's were all over him. Or maybe it was just his impatient imagination. He supposes he could also blame his impatience for the inescapable need to jack his hips up, thrusting into his hand, and biting at his bottom lip. He almost calls out Hank's name then, and he probably would have, if his lips weren't met by Hank's.

Brad feels Hank's hand rest on the top of his head, before they card through his hair. The smell of Hank's shampoo tickles his nose, and Brad arches his head back to give Hank better access.

Hank wastes no time in skimming his warm lips over the tender skin below Brad's ear. Brad groans, and strokes his fist over his cock.

Hank brushes his mouth to Brad's, soft and tender, listening as breathy little pants leave Brad's lips as they part.

"Do you think about me touching you? About my mouth, and all the dirty things it can do to you? How you want it to be wrapped around your ..." Hank pauses, his eyes flitting down to the waistband of Brad's boxers.

Brad bit his bottom lip, his grip tightening, and stroking once a little rougher than before. "Jesus Christ, Hank, keep talking."

Hank slides his mouth to Brad's ear. "I really should just get you on your knees right now and ..."

Brad's breathing is laboured, his hips twitching to create more friction. "God damn it, Hank. Fuck..."

Hank hums against Brad's ear, the deep, smooth sound sending currents of electricity shooting through Brad's body like a charged wire.

"Hm. You'd like that, wouldn't you? You want me to fuck you?"

The words seemed to knock all the air from Brad's lungs, and his heart was pounding so fast and hard, he was sure Hank could hear it too. All the words Brad wants to say seem stuck in his throat, and he swallows hard to get the strength to grind them out. "Hank, damn it. Yes. Just, yes."

"That's not the deal we made," Hank starts, but then pauses, pressing feather light kisses to Brad's temple, before finally pulling away. "Bradley."

Brad could feel the heat of frustration and desire twisting at the pit of his stomach, and he rode it in waves, letting it crash over him as he slid his hand firmly down his length, and back up again, twisting his thumb slightly at the end. It took every ounce of his resolve not to lose it, and he finally managed to speak through gritted teeth.

"Fuck the deal."

Hank chuckles, before he cradles Brad's face with his hands and kisses him. "Language, Bradley."

"Hank ... fuck ... get me off. Come on. I know you want to. God, Hank, fuck, make me come."

Brad uses his free hand to tug one corner of his boxers down, while the other strokes his cock. He arches his hips up against his hand, biting his bottom lip to stem the sounds spilling from his lips.

Hank's lips trail down the bare skin of Brad's torso, his tongue darting out to lick at Brad's hipbones. Brad whines when he felt Hank's teeth graze his skin, nipping at the soft cotton of his boxers. Using his teeth, Hank tugs Brad's boxers past his hips, and drew back slightly as Brad kicks them the rest of the way off. Any other words Brad may have had were cut off when he felt Hank lick a long, languid line up his leg. 

"I'd rather watch you do it," he whispers against Brad's thigh, before he nips the skin lightly.

Brad swore, his free hand jerking Hank's hair, hard. "Please, Hank. Please, just ... fuck your goddamn deal."

Hank nips the skin of Brad's thigh again. "Shh, Bradley. Let me watch." He drags his teeth up to Brad's hipbone, and bites at the skin there gently. "Do you think about my hands on your skin? Touching you, fingering you?"

Brad made a mewling sound at Hank's words, his rhythm on his cock increasing. "Hank ..."

"I do, y'know," Hank whispers, trailing a line of kisses back up towards Brad's mouth. "I think about the sounds you make when you're fucking yourself on my hand. How you always look so vulnerable when you're on the edge."

"Hank, I swear to god, if you don't ..."

"If I don't what, Bradley?" Hank said, his voice filling the darkness with its rich tone, and Brad couldn't help but think how it seemed to be coming from every direction, echoing off the corners of the room. "If I don't make you come in my mouth, is that what you mean?"

Those last words hit Brad like a tidal wave. He tilts his head back into the pillow, and jacks his hips up, thrusting into his hand as a desperate moan escapes his lips.  He felt as if he were freezing one second, and burning up the next, but through it all, he was achingly aware of Hank's lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of his thigh.

"Fuck, yes. Please, Hank."

Hank's breath left him in a low whoosh, and swept over Brad's skin. "As much as I know we'd both love that, there's something to be said about trying new things, Bradley."

Hank nips at Brad's thigh once again, to punctuate his point.

"Damn it, Hank," Brad growls in frustration.

Hank's lips move to Brad's hipbone, his teeth dragging along the thin skin.

"Hank, please ... I don't think I'm going to last ... much longer ..."

Hank pulls back and licks his bottom lip, and Brad nearly comes right then and there. Instead, he squirms, lips slightly parted as he moves his hand over his cock, panting in anticipation.

"You close, Bradley?" Hank whispers, pressing his lips to Brad's abdomen. "Do I get to see you come all over your hand, wishing you were coming in my mouth, hm?"

Brad nearly bit through his bottom lip as he works his cock harder, head thrown back, his breathing erratic. "Hank, Jesus fuck, you ..."

"Come on, Bradley. Come for me," Hank said in a soothing tone, his mouth hovering over Brad's.

Brad tilts his head back, lips brushing over Hank's as he moans low in his throat, and comes, coating his stomach with searing heat. He lay panting against the sheets, and hisses a curse as Hank's fingers curl around his wrist and drag his hand away from his cock.

Brad met Hank's eyes across the space, and he nearly came again as the sight of Hank's tongue darting out to lick the come from his fingers met his vision.

Hank smirks down at Brad. "Told you so."

Hank's eyes drag over Brad, his chest raising and falling in steady little pants. Brad is lost in his own little world, his eyes fluttering as he bit at his lower lip, and waits for the adrenaline to wane. Finally, he leans up, his lips brushing over the outline of Hank's jaw. Hank reaches out, and slowly trails his fingers along Brad's arm.

"G'night, Bradley," Hank said, sleepiness starting to creep into his voice.

"But don't you want to ... I mean, I can't have all the fun."

Hank chuckles, and places a small kiss on the tip of Brad's nose before pulling away, and laying against the sheets. "We have all night."

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to us on tumblr:
> 
>  
> 
> [blueabsinthe](http://blueabsinthe18.tumblr.com/)  
> [boltschick2612](http://boltschick2612.tumblr.com/)


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